


Grey Eyes

by Its_a_MadWorld



Category: Death Note
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bad Parenting, Doubt, Dysfunctional Family, Estrangement, Gen, Growing Up, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_a_MadWorld/pseuds/Its_a_MadWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're the son of a detective with no social skills and an artist who lost motivation to draw and paint, there's bound to be tragedies, and troubles, all your life. He just didn't realize it until everything, including himself, was too far gone. And forget about a happy ending. It's never going to happen.</p><p> I,C: If there was one thing he had always wanted to ask his parents, in the off chance he was around the both of them at the same time for more than just a minute, it would be 'How?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> In truth, I can never seen Near actually having children, but I wanted to explore the idea.

**I** f there was one thing he had always wanted to ask his parents, in the off chance he was around the both of them at the same time for more than just a minute, it would be 'How?' His father had the social skills of a bolder, and was an uncaring, thoughtless, and emotionless recluse. In contrast, his mother was outgoing and friendly, and always tried to care for the people around her. His father's lack of social skills should have been enough to keep any offspring from occurring, yet he still came to be.

Until his first day of school, when he was almost six, he never saw it as strange that the only family he knew of were his mother and a dead uncle. But one of the first questions that he was asked was what his father was like, few caring about his mother. He couldn't answer, as he didn't have a big grasp of the concept, and truthfully he never would. They called him strange, even the ones who only had one parent or were raised by two parents of the same gender, as at least they knew that everyone still needed to have both a 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' to actually exist.

The matter had been so pressing to him that he had requested a call to his mother. From the moment he dropped the question, his mother tried to avoid it, instead asking him how his day was going, had he found any friends – anything to keep away from the topic of his father. He was persistent though and regretfully he made her start to cry and she hung up the phone quickly afterwards. He spent the rest of the day in the corner of the classroom, sorry that he had made his mother cry.

Hours later when he arrived home, feet dragging against the ground, his head hung and a well thought out apology in his head, his mother lying on the couch. He could tell she'd cried more recently then when he had made her cry that morning, and he was filled with even more guilt than he had thought possible. She had smiled at him then, but it was too empty to mean anything. He ran to her, tears streaming down his face, uttering words of sorry unlike those he had planned out and all she did was listen, nodding and never saying a he had finally ran out of tears they stayed curled up on the couch, eventually falling asleep.

When they woke again, by the sound of the door bell, it was dinner time. His mother had woken up enough to order pizza, only to fall back asleep once again. They ate in the living room, something that happened much too often. They talked about how his day had been and he lied so much, even though he knew that his mother could see through everyone. He didn't want to bring up the subject of his father again if it made his mother cry. But that didn't mean he wasn't curious.

It was his mother who finally broke the ice that had kept the question and answer from breaking free. She explained what a father was in terms that she was sure he would understand – some one that was like a mother but was a male and was needed to bring a mother's baby into existence. Unlike what most other children would have asked right afterwards – how do fathers help make babies? – he skipped to asking where his was, but had immediately cringed, not sure if he would make his mother cry again.

But not even a single tear fell from her eyes, but those eyes weren't happy either. She gave him a wistful smile, and ruffled his hair. She didn't know. She didn't care. All that mattered at the time was her baby. The subject was dropped and they went back to eating. He was never given the chance to ask if he could see his father.

Later, he went to his mother's room to say good night after he was done getting ready for bed, and he over heard a phone call his mother was having with a man named 'Roger'. He never told his mother how much he heard; what he learned. His father didn't know. Which meant he didn't care.

* * *

**C** hange didn't arrive quickly in his life, even after he learned what a father was, unless one counted the new experience of school. He enjoyed the academic part of going there, but he  _loathed_  having to deal with those who also shared a learning place with him. 'You're soulless because you have red hair! You even have soulless eyes to match!' A common insult thrown at him, but the least hurtful. He actually loved his combination of red hair and grey eyes, and no one could ever make him think otherwise, but it was an insult none the less. He didn't mention this to his mother, trying his best to make it seem like he had found many friends at school, but he could see it in her eyes that she always knew that he was faking it.

But then like fate, he met him. Benjomin – a kid that joined the class two weeks after school first started, and was destined to be an outcast from the moment he looked at one of the boys and told him he was destined to die soon, with no sense of empathy for him. Horrifyingly, the kid had been right, as that boy and his family died in a car crash a week later. He had been the only one brave enough to ask him how he knew, and showing that bravery was what got him his first true friend.

But Benjomin had said that he could see people's lifespans and had figured out how to interpret the numbers, and because of the evidence that had been given to him, he believed every word Benjomin spoke.

His sixth birthday arrived two weeks later, and Benjomin was the only kid he invited to spend the afternoon with him. Other than a few times were Benjomin had come across people who were destined to die soon, everything went great. His mother absolutely adored Benjomin, and jokingly talked with his Benjomin's mother about adopting him when she dropped him back off at his house. The look on the mother's face had been a sight to see.

Later that evening, his mother finally gave him his birthday presents. Mostly they were things that he would forget about or lose by the end of the year, but two of the presents would stay with him forever. A pair of goggles that he adored, which could only fit him if his mother pulled the straps to their tightest, and a promise to visit his father soon.

His father was finally told of his existence, and now he wanted to meet him. Out of love, out of curiosity, or because it was simply what had to be done, he did not know. He never would know.

 

**Author's Note:**

> When writing this, I'm meaning to make it sound drabble-like.


End file.
